


Minor Victories

by mveloc



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mveloc/pseuds/mveloc
Summary: "You're always... hovering over me. Out of reach." Post 5x01. Delphine returns from Sardinia. Smut.





	Minor Victories

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Note:** I originally wrote this after 5x01, but I’ve been too busy to get around to editing and posting it. I seem to have found the time and inspiration after last night’s episode. Enjoy!

She chases after the dreadlocked clone who’d stormed away in such a hurry she nearly left a trail of debris in her wake. Many of the villagers watch in alarm and confusion as she calls out to Cosima, the clone ignoring her cries and continuing on her straight and certain path to the the yurt— _their_ yurt.

 

This certainly wasn’t how she imagined her day to go.

 

They had been in the clinic, taking Cosima’s samples to monitor her progress, to assess the effectiveness of the cure and try to determine the speed at which it was working. There had been a slight tension between them since she returned from Sardinia the day before, though they had settled into a comfortable banter. She could tell Cosima was still holding her at arm’s length, still upset over their current situation—or more specifically, their lack of control over it. 

 

She tried to hold her tongue.

 

She could tell by the look in Cosima’s eyes that there was some sort of disconnect—a numbness. Cosima had always been guarded in her own way, but this was different. There were far more barriers than she ever remembered there being before; she could feel it in Cosima’s unresponsive lips as she stole desperate kisses before being pulled away to Sardinia; she could see it in the glaze of her eyes, in the shallowness of their conversations which remained focused on the science—strictly business with no room for sentiment. She had been awarded a small victory when she managed to elicit a slight smile from the brunette after pressing her lips to the needle’s entry point on Cosima’s arm before pressing a circular bandaid to the wound. It was a loving gesture, a reassuring one—one that was meant to pull the clone out of whatever uncertainty and inner turmoil she seemed to be drowning it.

 

It almost worked.

 

The air became lighter for a moment, Cosima stepped in a little closer and met her gaze full-on—and then a knock at the door had disrupted their far-too-brief moment of domesticity. A second later, Westmorland’s messenger was standing in the doorway, informing her that she was to leave tomorrow morning for yet another research trip.

 

“No. No way,” Cosima had protested. “She just got back yesterday! You can’t send her away again!”

 

The older man had ignored the clone’s protests completely, his focus fixed squarely on Delphine.

 

“You have your orders,” he had told her. “You leave at sunrise.”

 

Cosima had nearly mowed him down as she pushed by him on her way out, desperate to escape them both. Delphine was quick to chase after, to try and mend the damage that had been done with just a few simple words from a stranger. She didn’t care about the audience they were amassing, about the look of judgment in the messenger’s eyes. All she could think to do was follow.

 

She calls out for Cosima again, watching as the shorter woman slams the door of the yurt behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mud, though she ignores whatever innocent yet annoying observation the girl is making and slips inside, closing the door firmly behind her. Cosima is standing in the center of the yurt, back turned and chest heaving.

 

“Cosima,” Delphine says softly in a bid to coax her out of her anger.

 

Cosima shakes her head, refusing to turn and face her.

 

“Is this how things are always going to be with us?” 

 

Her voice is low and trembling, on the verge of breaking. Her head hangs just as low and Delphine frowns, her eyes sliding shut as a sigh escapes her lips.

 

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she admits.

 

She wants to tell Cosima that she’s wrong, that things are going to change. She wants to tell her that she isn’t going anywhere, that it’s almost over and they’re one step closer to putting an end to all of this chaos. She _wants_ to, but she knows she can’t. She can’t lie to Cosima again. 

 

“I finally get you back and they just keep pulling you away from me,” Cosima says, her voice cracking. 

 

She finally turns around, her eyes shimmering and lip quivering in her tell-tale sign of despair. It’s enough to stab at the blonde’s chest and pull a shaky gasp from her parted lips. Her own eyes become dewy at the image and her legs are pulling her across the yurt as fast as they can carry her until she’s cradling Cosima’s face between her hands.

 

“No one will ever keep me from you. Do you understand?” she whispers harshly, pressing her forehead to Cosima’s. “I will _never_ leave you.”

 

Cosima freezes.

 

The words strike a cord somewhere deep within and she stares up at Delphine, completely rapt. Delphine tries to gauge her reaction, but there’s something happening behind Cosima’s eyes that she’s unable to fully grasp. Whatever it is, it sends the clone propelling forward until her lips are slamming into Delphine’s.

 

She doesn’t fight it.

 

A moan escapes as she finds herself suddenly backed up against the door, Cosima’s lips both soft and demanding. She allows Cosima to lead for the moment, to set the terms of their engagement as her mouth slides open to accommodate her desperate affection.

 

“I can’t take it anymore,” Cosima pants between their hurried kisses.

 

Delphine nods enthusiastically, cupping Cosima’s face in her hands and embracing the rapid crumble of her many walls. _This_ is the Cosima she remembers—the Cosima she’s longed to see again.

 

“I know, my love—I know,” she whispers, her voice strained.

 

Their lips meet again, crashing against each other like violent waves against the hull of a ship; she capsizes beneath the force of it, her knees buckling the second she feels Cosima’s fingers tug at the hem of her shirt.

 

“I won’t let them take you away again,” Cosima tells her, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

 

Delphine nods again, lifting her arms above her head to assist her lover. Cosima peels her shirt away, tossing it aside and slipping her hands into silky, golden curls. She refastens her lips to the doctor’s and Delphine’s hands find the taper of her hips, leading Cosima backwards until they find her cot— _their_ cot. They both kick off their boots and Cosima twists their bodies, forcing Delphine to sit, straddling her lap.

 

“Tell me you’ve missed me,” Cosima breathes.

 

Delphine’s lips go to her throat, traveling up the curve of her neck, her jawline.

 

“You know I have,” she pants against flushed skin. “Every day.”

 

Cosima sinks her fingers in deeper, gripping the blonde’s hair at the roots and forcing her head back so they can make eye contact.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Delphine licks her lips, staring up at Cosima—at eyes that nearly glow in their intensity.

 

“I’ve missed you.”

 

Cosima’s breath catches in her chest, a sob nearly escaping the second she hears Delphine whisper the words. Delphine’s thumbs brush at her damp cheekbones and she smiles, trying to replace the look of heartbreak in her lover’s eyes with something softer.

 

“Tell me you need me,” Cosima demands.

 

“More than anything.”

 

With a hand against her chest, Cosima slowly forces Delphine onto her back. Still straddling the blonde, she tugs her own shirt over her head and discards it, then reaches for her bra to unfasten it. All of the air in the room is sucked out and Delphine struggles for breath, her eyes raking over Cosima’s exposed form. Her lashes flutter and her tongue darts out past her lips to wet them. She slowly works her hands up Cosima’s tiny frame until she’s cupping the clone’s breasts in her hands and they both moan in unison.

 

“I need this, Delphine,” Cosima sighs, her head tipping back.

 

Delphine springs up and forward, her face drawn to Cosima’s chest like the needle of a compass pointing north. Cosima's hands find her hair again and she revels in the sensation of deft fingers lightly scratching at her scalp, sighing blissfully as she takes as much of Cosima’s breast into her mouth as she can fit, sucking greedily.

 

She divides her attention equally between the two fleshy mounds, drawing a pert nipple between her lips and sucking harder until she receives the desired response; Cosima’s back arches and she cries out, her hands moving from Delphine’s head to her shoulders, blunt nails digging crescent-shaped marks into her flesh. She forces Delphine back down onto the flat of her back, ignoring the whine that escapes the doctor’s mouth the second her attentions are denied. Cosima wastes no time pushing forward, reaching to unfasten Delphine’s bra and then moving on to the button of her pants. 

 

Delphine watches with wide eyes as Cosima divests her of her remaining clothes, the brunette’s eyes sharp and focused on the task at hand. Amber pools spark to life the second she has her monitor completely bare beneath her, as if she’s overcome by the possibilities before her.

 

She decides to start where they left off.

 

Cosima dips her head to the scar on her abdomen, pressing a gentle kiss to the marred flesh. Delphine can’t contain her moan, can’t stop her wandering hands from finding purchase in Cosima’s dreads. When Cosima traces the wound with her tongue, all bets are off.

 

_“Je t’aime,”_ she confesses, her voice a breathy whine.

 

“I love you, too,” Cosima answers without skipping a beat.

 

Her head dips lower until it’s nestled between Delphine’s thighs and all the blonde can do is stare up at the ceiling and wonder how the hell they got here. All of the lies, the promises and near-deaths have led them to this moment—a moment she never could have anticipated if someone had asked her those many months ago when she was just a girl with a fake transcript to match her name in a lab she had no business being in.

 

She keens.

 

She doesn’t care who can hear her—if Mud or the messenger are posted outside of their door—if the whole camp is gathering for the grand spectacle they’re currently making; the feel of Cosima’s mouth against her sex after all this time is too great a thing to stifle.

 

“You taste the same.”

 

She can barely make out the words through the haze of her arousal, but there’s a strange and undeniable innocence to them—as if Cosima had been expecting something else and is pleasantly surprised by what she’s discovered, her dormant memories roused into a state of wakefulness. She slowly laps away, taking care to avoid her clit with each teasing lick. She doesn’t want this to end before it has a chance to truly start and so she takes her time, easing into their lovemaking, savouring the sweetness against her tongue.

 

“I thought I forgot, but it’s just like I remember,” she mutters against Delphine’s sticky thigh, kissing it softly.

 

Delphine shakes her head in disagreement.

 

Cosima’s lips on her feel far better than she ever remembers and she doesn’t know how it’s possible; maybe it’s just been too long since she’s been touched like this, or maybe tasting death has made her savour the life Cosima fills her with, each and every touch a sharp, reminding jolt. Cosima gazes up at her, eyes smiling. She returns her focus to Delphine’s wetness, nuzzling her gently before capturing the blonde’s throbbing clit between her lips and sucking softly until Delphine’s back is twisted into a perfect arch, her mouth gaping.

 

“Yes,” Delphine sighs, biting down hard on her lower lip. “Like that—don’t stop…”

 

She comes undone slowly, like one of Cosima’s many scarves being pulled apart by each thread. She floats high above them, watching the scene unfold from an elevated perspective; she watches her body contort, watches Cosima lavish her with affection she never knew she craved quite this much. Her release washes over her like some sort of lunar eclipse, basking her in a red glow that cuts through the dark.

 

Cosima continues with her ministrations, pressing feather-light kisses to Delphine’s sensitive sex, her damp thighs, the wiry patch of hair above her cunt. Her lips tease at her navel, causing the doctor’s stomach to clench and quiver until she can’t take it anymore and she reaches down, catching Cosima’s head and guiding her back up to her mouth. They drink hungrily from each other, Delphine tasting her own arousal on Cosima’s tongue; she’d nearly forgotten what a turn on it is and she feels another pull at her groin, another ache in the pit of her belly.

 

Using what little strength she has left in the moment, she flips them over so that Cosima is pressed beneath her. The sudden act catches the clone by surprise and it takes her a few seconds to adjust, but the second Delphine presses her lips against hers once more, she sinks and settles into the shift quite naturally. 

 

When they pull apart for air again, Delphine stares down at her lover with a soft smile, lightly stroking at her wisps of baby hair. She traps Cosima’s head between her arms, searching her gaze. Cosima’s eyes seem to peer right through her—at some unseeable force that lingers just above them.

 

“What is it?”

 

Cosima’s eyes glisten, her lips part. 

 

The words escape her for a moment, but she grabs them before they can float away completely and reigns them back in as best she can.

 

“You’re always…hovering over me,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Out of reach.”

 

The tiniest gasp slips from Delphine’s lips, Cosima’s words echoing in the halls of her head. She hadn’t realized the extent of the damage her abandonment has left, but she sees it so plainly now. Her eyes well with tears, her lungs burn in her chest.

 

“I’m right here,” she promises.

 

She presses more urgent kisses to Cosima’s mouth, coaxing her open.

 

“I’m right here,” she repeats, reaching for the button of Cosima’s pants with trembling hands and popping it open.

 

She tears Cosima’s pants down her legs with no preamble, underwear along with them. When she has Cosima bare beneath her, she breaks their kiss to drag her lips down her lover’s body, down the slope of her neck and the jut of her collarbone. She wraps her lips around a perky nipple, sucking perhaps a little too hard and pulling a sharp cry from the clone.

 

“Can you feel me now?” she asks, biting down.

 

Cosima squirms beneath her, moaning loudly until Delphine releases her nipple and stops, looking up into Cosima’s eyes.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Cosima nods.

 

“Yes,” she squeaks.

 

Delphine nuzzles her breasts, smiling.

 

“What does it feel like?”

 

She waits to hear Cosima’s voice and when she’s met by silence, she looks up again and searches for an answer. Cosima’s gaze is distant, focused on the ceiling. She just barely notices the tears in her eyes.

 

“I—I don’t know…”

 

“Yes you do,” Delphine urges.

 

She reaches lower, gliding her fingers through Cosima’s wetness. She watches the breath catch in her chest, watches her lashes flutter and her mouth fall open as a sigh escapes. 

 

It feels like living—

 

Like fighting—

 

Like _winning._

 

“Tell me,” Delphine tries again.

 

Cosima shakes her head.

 

When Delphine slides two fingers inside, her protests are replaced by a long groan. She works Cosima slowly, meticulously, just the way she likes. Her fingers curl and reach, hoping she’ll draw her answer out into the open. She’s rewarded by a swivel of her lover’s hips, by Cosima’s hands reaching for her head and pulling her back up to her mouth.

 

“Please,” Cosima breathes against her lips. 

 

There’s an aching desperation to her words, one that matches the heat between her legs, and Delphine tries her hardest to answer her pleas with a strong and certain hand. She speeds up her once-languid pace and Cosima eagerly matches her movements with an undulation of her hips which quickly grows into frenzied bucking, with nails which claw at the doctor’s back as she tries to anchor herself to the short-lived present—to a stolen moment she knows she’ll have to return much too soon.

 

The yurt falls silent, save for their laboured breathing, the creak of the cot and the slick, sweet sounds of their coupling; gone is the howling wind at the window, the muted voices that usually buzz just beyond the door. Cosima sinks her teeth into the well-defined muscles of Delphine’s neck, clamping down to stifle herself. She feels as if she’s about to burst beneath the weight of Delphine, the building pressure in the pit of her belly, the exhaustion and frustration and this feeling of being loved so completely that she almost doesn’t know what to do with it. _This_ is what she’s wanted all along—to have Delphine to herself, to share even just a moment of rawness and honesty—so why does she clamp her eyes shut and turn her head away from the blonde’s piercing gaze?

 

Delphine can feel the resistance begin to build with each thrust of her fingers and she knows Cosima’s close, but she can’t send her over until she has an answer of her own.

 

“Look at me,” she pants, pleading. “Look at me.”

 

She brings her free hand to Cosima’s face, her fingertips dancing over her delicate features. 

 

“I’m here,” Delphine whispers with a slight nod for emphasis. “We’re here.”

 

She traces the plumpness of Cosima’s lower lip, finally coaxing the clone to open her eyes and meet her gaze. They both freeze for a moment, locked in stare before Cosima draws her thumb into her mouth and gently sucks, tugging an elongated out of the blonde.

 

They’ve made it this far.

 

They’re going to make it all the way. 

 

Cosima releases her thumb and nods, pressing a kiss to Delphine’s palm. 

 

“We’re here,” she agrees. 

 

They’re going to make it home. No matter how long it takes, no matter how hard they have to try, they’re going to make it off this godforsaken island; they’re going to stop whatever P.T. Westmorland is planning, they’re going to free her and her sisters and they’re going to go home—wherever that is. 

 

It was never Minnesota, but was it ever really Toronto?

 

No.

 

They’ll find someplace new—someplace that hasn’t been tainted by all of the lies—someplace that isn’t shrouded in dark clouds or heartbreak. They’ll start all over—on even ground this time. They’ll go on proper dates, they’ll fight about normal things. They’ll cling to each other without the constant threat of death on their tails, without secrets cutting them apart. 

 

Cosima’s eyes grow glossy at the thought.

 

“Harder,” she whispers against Delphine’s lips, lightly nipping in a bid to goad her lover.

 

Delphine complies.

 

Never has she found herself so consumed in a word, all of her focus in her hand as she increases the pressure, the depth of her fingers. Despite their limited space with such a tiny cot, she somehow finds a way to sling one of Cosima’s knees over her shoulder, pressing into the petite woman with her full weight. Cosima cries out hoarsely at the new angle, and when Delphine circles the swell of her clit with her dexterous thumb, she loses all thought completely and cries out, giving herself over to the feeling.

 

When they’re finished, they lay in the silence of understanding, Delphine blanketed over Cosima’s still-frail but quickly recovering body. Cosima runs her fingers through golden locks, inhaling deeply and finding comfort in the familiar sent of her lover, in their sex. She feels stronger than she has in a long time, even with Delphine’s weight pressing down on her. 

 

“When will you be back?” she whispers.

 

Delphine tenses.

 

It’s subtle, but Cosima feels it.

 

“I don’t know,” the doctor finally answers. “But I’ll try not to be too long.”

 

Cosima nods, smiling when she feels Delphine press a kiss to her cheek, head resting in the crook of Cosima’s neck. Even though it’s not exactly what she wants to hear, she’s relieved to hear an honest answer from the blonde and so she accepts it.

 

“But when I do—”

 

“I know,” Cosima interrupts her thought.

 

There’s no telling how deep the rabbit hole truly goes. There’s no knowing when all of this craziness will end. She can’t be entirely certain when they’ll see each other again, but she knows that they will—and that when Delphine returns to her carrying a victory flag, they’ll be able to march in a new direction together for the very first time.

 

She’ll be waiting.

 

 

 

 


End file.
